Scoffer of Love Society
by Luni Sedai
Summary: Just a funny story of a club, where everyone in it falls unwillingly into love. So, read, review, and vote on pairings! DISCONTINUED


The Scoffer of Love Society  
  
"I call to order the third Scoffer of Love Society congregation," Draco Malfoy, the president of the organization, said, clearing his throat loudly. The murmurs of new members asking old members about what they had done subsided slowly.  
  
"Ahem," An official and rather pompous looking Blaise Zabini took the floor. "Our first order of business is to read, and scoff at, this month's Hogwarts's Love Statistics. Please take out the Hogwarts Hotline newspaper out from under the seat of your chair.  
  
A general rustle pervaded the room as everybody searched under their seat.  
  
"Turn to page A14. Look for the oh-so-novel title: Love Stats," Blaise said snidely, while turning the page of the newspaper quickly.  
  
"If you please, David," Draco said, signaling a dark-skinned, dark-haired, dark-eyed 'Mudblood' Gryffindor stood up and sauntered to the platform. There was only the slightest hint of Draco's trademark smirk on his face; otherwise he looked perfectly serene.  
  
"Hello, people," David said, waving to a few people in the crowd. "I will be your orator today." David paused, noticing that the noise hadn't stopped.  
  
"AHEM," He cleared his throat meaningfully. Sounds of 'shh' or 'shut up' or, most often, giggles were heard. David gave a small sigh and waited until the din became reasonable.  
  
"Thank you. If you didn't hear, please turn to page A14." He surveyed the room and, when assured that everyone was at the right page, began. (spelled as pronounced by David)  
  
"HELLOO students of Hogwarts! I bet you're all real excited about this month's sizz-A-ling Love Stats! This is Ginny Weasley, here to say that this month's Love Stats have c-RAE-zily climbed! So let's get to the nitty gritty; this month's statistics for unrequited love is. 39%! Whoa! That's bad, but it's getting better! For my favorite part, REQUITED love, is, that's right, you guessed it. a whopping 60%! I bet you're all wondering what happened to the 1%; well that's the percent of people who DON'T love love, the Scoffer of Love Society!!! BOO!!! Add an extra BOO!!! for the president, Draco Malfoy, also fondly known as the bouncing FERRET!!! WOO!!! LOVE FOREVER!!! DRACO, NEVER!!!"  
  
David looked sheepishly at Draco. "That's exactly what it says, Draco, it's not my fault."  
  
"Don't call me Draco, and, it's ok. At least now people know about us," Draco said coolly. "Now we take attendance. Crabbe," Draco said, calmly continuing the congregation and gesturing to him to count the people who were there.  
  
"What?" There was a glitch in the smooth procedures.  
  
"Count the people here, you lummox! Didn't we go over this?" Draco snapped quietly.  
  
Crabbe turned around in a circle, counting the people on the platform. "Uh- Draco why can't you do it yourself? There are only five people; it can't be that hard to count. Unless-" Crabbe got a stupid gleam in his eyes,  
  
"Unless, you DON'T know how to count!" Draco snarled in frustration and stalked into the audience, counting them himself, muttering a bit dangerously.  
  
"What'd I do?" A bewildered Crabbe asked a forehead-slapping Blaise.  
  
"You-- ::sigh:: walk with me, Crabbe," Blaise said, walking off the platform.  
  
Everybody gasped. Luckily, that was planned; he was SUPPOSED to fall into cushions already placed there by Goyle. (It was a dramatics thing.) The cushions, however, were sorely lacking. Blaise stood up, rubbing his back.  
  
David hurried over. "You okay, Zabini?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Are you going to do anything to them, Zabini?"  
  
"No, it was my own fault for not remembering that it was GOYLE I was instructing. And don't call me Zabini- makes me sound like sushi. Call me Blaise."  
  
"No offense, Blaise, but your first name sounds like pudding." Now, normally, Blaise would have hexed or at least cursed anyone who dared tell him that, but Draco was motioning for him to go up to the platform again.  
  
"It's ok, people, I'm all right," Blaise assured the 'horrified' audience. "Anyway, are there any questions?" A crash answered him.  
  
Blaise, Draco, David, and- well, everyone else turned to meet the sight of Goyle dangling, in a more undignified manner than usual, from a huge Muggle football scoreboard where he had been about to put up the number of people when he did something more stupid than usual and had ended up in the position he was now in. No one knew what exactly he had done.  
  
When Goyle was taken down and David had put up the number (15), David took over. "Questions? Any? At all?"  
  
A quivering hand went bravely up where no hand had gone before. (Lol.)  
  
"Yes, uh-"  
  
"Colin Creevey."  
  
"Colin Creevey. What is your question?" David, being a Ravenclaw, asked politely.  
  
"Yes, well, what exactly is the purpose of this group?" Before David could answer, Colin hurried to specify.  
  
"I mean, what do we do? What are our goals? When do we meet? Weekly? Bi- weekly? Tri-weekly? Monthly? Do we have initiations?"  
  
"Slow down and let me answer your questions," David, still polite, said. "First of all, the reason this congregation was made was for those who were sick and tired of seeing lovesick fools wondering about or holding hands. We are here to mutually scoff and laugh at love. We try our best to show people that love really isn't good for them; I mean if you looked at it logically, hate would seem better. Our short-term goal is to show Ginny Weasley the Truth. Our long-term goal is to destroy completely and utterly the stats that are for the love requited percent. We meet bi-weekly, and Draco Malfoy will explain to you the initiation rites. Is that all?"  
  
"Er, no, is there any, like ceremonies or something? In my Muggle school, we always had to say the pledge of allegiance before we start class; are we going to do that. Is there a routine?"  
  
"Ah, you want routine, do you? Well, our president, Draco Malfoy, will answer these types of questions briefly. He is currently-ah," David hesitated, glancing quickly at Draco, who was yelling at Crabbe and Goyle.  
  
Now it looked like he was hexing them. He HAD put a silencing spell around them so as to make the audience a teensy bit less embarrassed. "Ah-busy." He nodded fervently. "Any other questions?"  
  
There were none. "Ok, then." David was now a bit fidgety; he had been told to stall them until Draco had completed the matter.  
  
"Erm, well, wait just a moment, please," David said, rushing off the stage and telling Blaise that Blaise needed to stall them while David tried to tell Draco.  
  
The awaiting audience, eating conjured popcorn, could hear their argument.  
  
"Why in the name of Merlin should I, of all people, stall them?! I'm the vice president; you're the orator! Orators are SUPPOSED to talk! And talk well!" Blaise half-shouted.  
  
"Well, because I already tried my best, but it was too brief and they'll get impatient anytime soon. Also, orators are supposed to talk, but supposed to KNOW what they're talking about. And I do talk well, are you saying I don't? It's obvious that I should be the one who tells Draco because I'm Ravenclaw and more reasonable. I have MUCH more insight than you do!" David said, almost, but not quite, shouting; you could call it quarter shouting, if you wish.  
  
"No you don't! I'm his best friend!"  
  
"He doesn't have best friends!"  
  
"Yeah, well, I'M living evidence."  
  
"How about this, we both ask him and give them a Ouji board; it's witchy, and a whole group of people could have fun with it," David said, using his innate sensibility.  
  
However, Blaise did NOT.  
  
"Yes, we will both go, but they'll play Truth or Dare! It's much more fun!"  
  
"Fine, fine," David said, rolling his eyes.  
  
While David's eyes were rolling, Draco had already concluded his business and was looking impatiently at them. He folded his arms impatiently and started using his Scorching Glare, his Death Glare, and, this rhymes, his Flare Glare.  
  
"IF you are done calling me a best friendless person who could be persuaded by one of you two dumbasses, we should get back to the matter at hand," Draco said, going into his all new Icy Glare.  
  
He turned toward the audience; the popcorn had disappeared by miraculous means.  
  
"Before I start, anyone who is under fifth year, may now leave." Ten people left, grumbling. Draco smiled condescendingly at those departing.  
  
"Firstly, I ask of the remaining members to get up when their name is called and explain to us, us being Blaise, David, and myself, why you have decided to join, your full name, what you would like to be called, which house you are in, and which year you are in," Draco said, taking out a magical scroll that had automatically recorded the names of the people left in the empty classroom they had used for this meeting.  
  
"Secondly of all, 'closus mevetin', that is a spell that goes throughout Hogwarts, informing people who are at all interested in this group that this meeting is almost over. Now we have to wait for about seven minutes. During that time, you may talk over what you know and there are refreshments next to Crabbe and Goyle. Thank you for your attention; and your patience." Draco left the platform to join Blaise and David to talk over the rest of the proceedings.  
  
A/N: Well, this is the first chapter. I may make it longer later on; but right now I'm too tired to do much else. If you want to know, I don't know what pairings there will be. Sorry! Please review me; this is like, my first HP fanfiction that does not revolve around only one pairing.  
  
P. S. You can vote for the pairing of your choice. Majority rules, so if others who like the same pairing as you, tell them about this fic so they can add to the majority for that pairing. The people who are members of the Scoffer of Love Society are:  
  
Draco Malfoy  
  
Vincent Crabbe  
  
Gregory Goyle  
  
David Hart (original character)  
  
Blaise Zabini  
  
Colin Creevey  
  
Hermione Granger  
  
Angelina Johnson  
  
Lavendar Brown  
  
  
  
Dean Thomas  
  
  
  
That's all of them; for now. 


End file.
